


Burning Paper Planes

by HeadStrongHeadLights



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Beach Divorce, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1927782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeadStrongHeadLights/pseuds/HeadStrongHeadLights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle, when the dust settles and things kind of go back to normal, Alex finds that he can't stop thinking about the plane crash that took his parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning Paper Planes

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing for these characters so they will definitely seem out of character. Oops. Written in response to a prompt I found but lost.

He could feel the earth shifting beneath him as he laid on his back, staring at the ceiling of the bunker. Alex could feel the hum of the pure energy coursing through his veins as he tried to get his thoughts in order. He felt weightless, numb, heavy and earth bound all at once. Most of all though, he felt sick. 

The battle (felt more like war) on the sands of Cuba felt like a lifetime ago, but was really only week. The burns from the metal plate on his chest were more than enough to prove that it was real and not a horrible nightmare. 

The control he had over his power was much better but it now showed how much of a mess he was. His ability was only out of control because he was. And it really showed now that the nightmares were back. 

In his second foster home, the therapist told him that he suffered from PTSD, most likely due to surviving the plane crash that took his parents and his brother away. The adults got tired of him waking up screaming almost every night. It was the nightmares that got him moved in the first place. It took more sessions than he could count before he could sleep through the night. Years before he could get rid of the images that were burned behind his eyelids. All that work undone in less than 30 minutes. Now he was too afraid to sleep, afraid of losing control like he did all those years ago. 

Alex took a deep breath, breathing in the heady scent of plasma. Before he finished inhaling, it turned to burning jet fuel so thick it choked him. He could hear a women’s voice screaming his name, making him jump to his feet. He looked around him, only seeing the walls of the bunker. Her voice echoed in his ears though. 

Alex watched as the bunker began to turn into the plane. The smoke invaded his lungs as his mother kissed his forehead, making him and Scott promise to stay together. Their father had been the one flying but there was no sign of him. Only his mother, strapping on the parachutes to him and Scott. Over the obnoxious shrieking of tearing metal, he could only just barely catch his mother’s voice telling Scott to take care of him. Then there was the sensation of falling. Then there was nothing. 

When he came back to his senses, he was kneeling in front of the bushes somewhere towards the back of the property. The taste of bile mixed with the thickness of smoke, making him dry heave repeatedly. Everything that had been in his stomach was now in the bushes. He grimaced. 

“I hear watering the flowers does just as good a job.”

He glanced up, looking at Erik who wasn’t even looking at him. “I heard water only does so much,” Alex muttered. His throat felt raw and he winced at the hoarseness his voice took on. He took Erik’s hand, allowing the older man to pull him to his feet. Alex was still shaky but eventually it would pass. He hoped. Not that he wasn’t grateful for the man’s company, he really would rather be alone. “Let me guess, Charles sent you.”

“Yes, he thought that I could be of some help.” Okay, he wasn’t actually expecting an answer, certainly not that one. Alex only raised an eyebrow when the German looked at him. “You’re not the only one who suffers from nightmares.” 

He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. The exhaust is still heavy in his lungs and he could feel it weighing him down. He began to walk away, not entirely sure where he was going. The tearing of metal, the screaming of the plane as it rapidly descended in a nosedive, turned to static. Each step felt tiresome, like walking with lead in his feet. 

“Alex.”

“I need to walk. Staying in one spot will put me to sleep.” The teen couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth or lying. They seemed to go hand in hand these days. He looked up and saw Sean on the roof, just sitting on the edge with a cigarette burning in his hand. Alex was almost tempted to join him, if he knew that he wouldn’t throw himself off if he went up. He ducked his head and kept walking. Some small, insignificant part of him felt guilty for the thought. 

He was completely exhausted, unable to find his footing as he made his way back to the main part of the house. The teen could hear enough to know that Erik was following him, just not enough to really care. Alex wandered around for a few minutes, trying to clear his head to no avail.

Then he was laying on the ground. He blinked up at the cloudy sky. He blinked again and Erik was kneeling beside him, something akin to worry or concern on his face. The German helped him sit up, his hand weirdly warm on his back. Alex always assumed that his skin would be cold like the metal his mutation allowed him to manipulate. 

“When was the last time you slept?” Erik asked. His voice was quiet. Alex frowned at him. Why did he care? 

“A few days ago. In the bunker. I think.” 

“Why were you in there?”

“Afraid. Couldn’t control my power.” Alex was definitely slurring his words now, though it was only slight. The static in his head was getting louder. Erik wasn’t really helping either. He fought to keep sitting up. All he wanted to do was sleep. He couldn’t sleep. Somebody might get hurt. People always get hurt around him. 

There was now a hand against his other shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw Charles now on his other side, the look of concern far more obvious on his face. The frown got deeper. When did he get here?

“Alex, why didn’t you tell anyone about your fear of flying?” 

He shook his head, mildly annoyed at Charles invading his thoughts though he couldn’t blame him. “Not flying. Crashing. Had to stop Shaw. Thought it wouldn’t bother me anymore. Thought I was past it.” He didn’t notice he was leaning against Erik until the man sat him up again. He blinked at them, with their twin looks of concern. He watched their faces morph, one into a beautiful young woman and the other into a boy not much older than him. Both had mirror looks of horror written on their faces. 

Alex flinched violently away from both of them, getting to his feet. He could feel his eyes burning, knew he was close to losing control again. So he walked away again, headed towards the bunker because the hum of his mutation was slowly burning its way to the surface, just waiting for his control to slip enough for him to destroy everything. He ran when he felt his body heating up and reached the bunker just in time. 

He shut and locked the door. Then he lost control. 

Alex aimed at nothing, couldn’t focus long enough to. He screamed, unsure how else to express the guilt, the anger, the absolute and utter loathing he felt towards himself. He should’ve been the one to die.

He kept screaming until his throat was so raw that it hurt to breath. The red light died away as he dropped to the ground, sitting against the wall of the bunker as he sobbed into his knees. The tears burned his hands, which were scratched up from him falling outside. It didn’t matter though. His entire family was dead and he couldn’t stop feeling like it was his fault. 

Distantly, he heard the door opening. Someone, Alex couldn’t place who, pulled him into their arms. Too tired of holding everything in, he allows himself relax, allows himself to cry against the chest of whoever had him. He resolved to feel embarrassed later. 

He cried himself sick, like he used to do when he was little. He didn’t often express strong emotions, not even with his birth family. Never did figure out why. When he did though, he always did so in a very explosive way. Like crying until he threw up. Which he just did. Awesome. 

He grimaced at the mess again, hating himself just that little bit more. Erik didn’t comment though. Neither did Charles. 

“It wasn’t your fault Alex,” Charles said. He stated everything like there was no possible way to deny him anything. It didn’t stop him from shaking his head. The telepath sighed, like he knew that he could say whatever he wanted but Alex would disagree. 

Alex could feel the silent conversation going on over his head but was too exhausted to care. Whoever was holding him stood up, bringing him up with them. He rubbed his eyes as Erik helped him out of the bunker. Oh. Well, that makes things just a little bit awkward. 

Soon enough he was in his room. His head was fuzzy but not static-y anymore. He kicked off his shoes and shimmed out of his jeans and jacket. He crawled into bed, ignoring the adults who were still in the room and obviously watching him. He drew the blankets up over his head and shut his eyes. Alex heard them leave and let out the breath he was holding. When he finally fell asleep, he didn’t dream.


End file.
